


Lithium

by lowkeytrash



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Blood, M/M, mind control kinda, randy is basically an actual snake, supernatural shit?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 03:46:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13068435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowkeytrash/pseuds/lowkeytrash
Summary: Bray's the only person who can keep Randy under control.





	Lithium

**Author's Note:**

> Set directly after Bray and Randy lose the Smackdown tag titles. I'm just going to start throwing old abandoned WIPs up here because why the hell not. Not edited at all, sorry. AND YES BITCH RANDAL IS SPELLED WITH ONLY ONE 'L' OKAY.

“Harper’s fucking dead.” Randy balls his hands into fists and grits his teeth. His belly burns with not only anger but shame. If only he’d taken Luke out when he had the chance, before he could lay a finger on Bray....

  
  


“Randal, c’mon and lay down.” Bray says, catching the other man’s attention for a fleeting moment.

  
  


“No!” Randy snaps. “I’m going to fucking kill him.” He drops to his knees suddenly and makes a pathetic little noise, a stark contrast to his yelling. “Shut up, shut up, _shut up_ , ” he mutters under his breath. It’s too loud in his head; a cacophony of disembodied voices. He can hardly hear above the noise.

  
  


“Come here,” Bray says, this time his tone serious and commanding.

  
  


The Viper turns to him, eyes wild, nostrils flaring. Randy clamps his eyes shut and puts his hands over his ears. Too many fucking voices, but now Bray’s is there as well. Louder than the others, drowning them out.

  
  


_ 'It’s gonna be alright, Randy. It’s gonna be alright.' _

  
  


“Promise?” Randy asks aloud.

  
  


“I promise.”

  
  


Randy sighs and smiles weakly at Bray, who beckons Randy toward him. The man moves without thinking, as though he’s being pulled by some imaginary force. Randy settles on the bed beside his partner and takes a deep breath.

  
  


“Tell me what’s going through that pretty head of yours.”

  
  


Randy can't hold back his sarcastic laughter, no matter how relaxed he may be. What isn‘t going through his head? A million thoughts racing at ninety-to-nothing. “That son of a bitch, Harper. I'm tired of this shit. I’m supposed to—” Randy cuts himself off and stares a hole in the carpet.

  
  


“What?” Bray tilts his head.

  
  


“Nothing,” Randy knows that Bray can see right through him. There’s really no point in lying. Still, he has to force the words out. “I’m supposed to protect you.”

  
  


“Ah,” Bray says with a soft nod of his head. “It's nothin’, little snake. You did just fine.”

  
  


Randy bristles at the pet name but Bray pats his shoulder, grounding him. It’s the small things that make Bray so dangerous, like the way he’s able to subdue Randy with a twitch of his hand, a whisper, a look.

  
  


“Don't you worry about me.” Bray chuckles darkly. “Luke can't hurt a god, Randal.”

  
  


And the words that Randy used to roll his eyes at and brush off so long ago are now the very words that comfort him. “You are,” Randy says reverently, going so far as to bow his head.

  
  


Bray brushes a calloused thumb along Randy’s jaw before replacing his thumb with his lips, kissing Randy’s stubbled cheek. Randy’s heart starts to race. Sure, Bray has always been affectionate, but not like this. Definitely not like this. Randy grabs a handful of Bray’s hair and pulls him into a kiss. It’s a reflex, a compulsion that he can't resist. It’s violent and desperate, their tongues intertwining. Bray bites hard on Randy’s bottom lip and tugs.

  
  


“Oh, fuck,” Randy hisses.  

  
  


“You’re mine.” Bray pulls him down onto the bed and straddles him, pinning his hands to the mattress. “You need me, Randy.”

  
  


“I need you,” Randy echoes.

  
  


“You’ve wanted this for so long, haven't you?”

  
  


“Yeah,” Randy says quietly. Truthfully, the thought had never crossed his mind before, but now it’s all he can think about. Bray is all he can think about. His savior, his master. He nips at the sensitive skin on Bray’s throat.

 

“Do it,” Bray says sternly, his breathing labored.   

 

At first, Randy doesn’t understand, but he feels something digging around in his mind—a sensation like having an itch scratched—and then all at once he knows. “No, I can’t—”

 

“Hush,” Bray interrupts. He touches his forehead to the other man’s and locks eyes with him. He presses his lips to Randy’s and it’s different this time; softer. “I’ve got you. Give in.”

 

With those words, he’s powerless to resist. Randy cries out in pain and writhes beneath Bray. His vision changes, his teeth shift, and before he can stop himself, he sinks his fangs into Bray’s neck. He hates how good it feels. Hates the way that Bray gasps and pulls him closer, leaning into the bite.

  
  


“You’re somethin’ special, Randy,” Bray whispers.

  
  


_Special_. It’s not like he doesn’t know—how can you not know when thousands of people cheer for you?—but hearing it from Bray gives it more weight. Each and every movement Bray makes causes Randy’s pulse to beat louder and louder in his ears. Bray’s little sighs and moans as Randy clamps down harder are nearly too much to take. Randy breaks away and his forked tongue laps up the droplets of blood that trickle from the twin puncture wounds.

  
  


He smiles wickedly with gleaming, red-stained fangs and unblinking eyes, pupils narrowed into slits. If the Eater of Worlds has any weakness, it’s seeing Randy like this: animalistic and wild but still loyal to a fault.

  
  


“We gotta get you out of these clothes,” Bray says, letting go of Randy’s wrists. He fumbles with the zipper on Randy’s hoodie until it gives way.

  
  


“Please,” Randy begs, arching his back as Bray tugs down his pants.

  
  


“Patience,” Bray shushes. He studies Randy’s thighs—the way his muscles twitch and tighten with the slightest of touches. Runs his hands over the expanse of Randy’s chest and abs, smooth and chiseled, albeit not as chiseled as they had been in his younger years.

  
  


Randy whimpers and bites his lip in an effort to stifle the noise, his fangs digging into the sensitive flesh. He winces in pain as a thin trail of red runs down his chin.

  
  


“Oh, hell, Randy.” Bray kisses the man hungrily. He moans loudly against his mouth before turning his attention to the rest of Randy’s body. He trails his tongue across Randy’s chest, the salt of sweat mingling with the blood that lingers on his lips. “You are absolutely perfect.” Hands grip and massage Randy’s legs. “So beautiful.” Kisses pepper Randy’s thighs. “Such a good boy.”

  
  


And that's all Randy wants to hear. After trying for months to prove himself, it's the validation he needs.

  
  


“ _ Please,” _ Randy pants, his hips bucking instinctively. “Please, Bray.”

  
  


Bray watches him writhe and savors the sight. The deadly viper laid bare for the taking. His snake. His boy, with a body just begging to be touched and worshipped, and a mind that can be so easily bent and molded and sculpted into what Bray wants. Snakes are made to be charmed. Tamed. Controlled. Randy’s eyes are pleading when he meets Bray’s stare.

  
  


“ _ Master _ .” Randy moans as Bray runs a hand up his thigh. “I’ll...do anything.” His breathing is heavy, erratic.

  
  


“You don't have to do anything,” Bray whispers. His fingers clutch Randy’s hips.

  
  


“Bray…” Randy’s pupils dilate, his voice wavers. “I need you.”

  
  


“Hm, are you sure you've earned it?” Bray flashes a shit-eating grin and chuckles. Toying with Randy is so easy and so much fun. He loves seeing the desperation in the other man’s eyes. So needy and broken.

  
  


“Yes, yes.” Randy stammers. “I've earned it.  _ Please, Bray. _ Ple—”

  
  


And before he can finish getting the words out, Bray’s wrapping a hand around his cock. Randy gasps and moans, loud and unabashed.

  
  


Randy can feel Bray’s breath, hot on the nape of his neck. He could live here—this one moment—for an eternity. Randy hasn't felt loved or even _liked_ by anyone in a while, and it was never like this anyway. Bray is inside of his head. Bray is a part of him. Always has been. That's what Bray tells him, at least, and Randy has no reason to doubt it. The voices have been there for so long now—so many voices—and these days Bray’s is the loudest of them all.  

  
  


And, oh, how he hates knowing that this will all come to an end. A screeching halt. The comfort and love and trust that he's worked so hard to gain will crumble around him. It has to happen eventually, but Randy can try to put it off for as long as he can. He can fight to keep the other voices at bay, but it’s ultimately a losing battle.

  
  


Everything will go down in flames.

  
  
  



End file.
